Controlled chaos behind the holiday mail rush

The "beep-beep" of the forklift-like vehicle interrupts the conveyor-belt drone of boxes and letters whooshing at racetrack speed throughout this massive North Side building.

The lift's driver, Tyler Caldwell, expertly negotiates the blind corners and narrow aisles. He flicks his controls and glides across the floor.

After six years, the machine has become an extension of his body, "almost second-nature to me," said Caldwell, a resident of Heath and a mail handler in Ohio's largest United States Postal Service distribution center.

Caldwell is one of about 1,500 workers who help ensure that this critical hub of mail delivery operates on time, even as some private carriers struggle just days before Christmas.

The center, the size of six football fields and located two miles south of Easton Town Center, is ramping up for the seasonal crush of deliveries with 200 extra workers. On a recent Tuesday night, more than 400,000 packages were sorted, scanned and loaded for delivery. That's about 165,000 more than on a typical day.

The busiest mailing and shipping week begins Monday. And package deliveries, due to online shopping, are expected to increase 10 percent over last year. Postal officials suggest that first-class mail be sent by Tuesday to arrive before Christmas.

Despite its vast, dizzying impression to outsiders, the sprawling distribution center has an order — and a coach, in Mary Leach, who paces the sidelines.

She'll walk up to 14 miles a day, she said, greeting colleagues by name or with a wave or hug, answering questions and concerns. Mostly, offering encouragement and a smile.

"The Postal Service is one of the best places to work," said Leach, senior manager of operations "We bring joy and happiness into the homes of everyone in the country."

"To me, (the job) embraces love. And that's one thing we deliver: service and love to all our customers."

The intake area, where mail trucks unload items from Athens and Marietta to Dayton and beyond, appears anything but personal. Mechanical, dumpster-like bins hoist hundreds of envelopes into a machine.

The cold processing is tempered with care. This load will become someone's keepsake, gift or personal message.

A few aisles from the intake bays, working at a letter-sorting machine, Karen Guido is concerned.

She has stopped the blurred motion of letters to yank out a Christmas card, in pieces.

With gloved hands, she carefully holds the remains, explaining how they'lll be sent to another station, taped and delivered with an apology.

"It bothers me," she said. "This happens a lot. I hate it."

That personal touch is vital to the operation and important for the public to know, said Eric Tipton, another supervisor.

"When you see something on the floor, you've got to treat it as if that's your letter," Tipton said. "That could be somebody's monthly check or birthday card from grandma. It's important to that person, so you've got to treat it as such."

Caldwell's maneuvering skills will be tested on the night shift. He loves the freedom and sensation of floating as he works, but he tempers the ride with extreme caution.

"I've had near-misses," he said. "And with 10,000 pounds hitting you, you're not going to win."

The buzz of activity increases later in the night as trucks are reloaded, and shipped to airports and semis for points around the world.

The 24-hour cacophony and endless motion is a relentless reminder of the season's purpose to millions, workers say.

"It seems like chaos, but it gets done," said Tipton.

dnarciso@dispatch.com

@DeanNarciso

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